His Saviour
by GallifreyanLady
Summary: Random Oneshot.


She was his remaining light in a world of chaotic darkness. His one saviour. His Hermione.

He first met her under the guise of Alastor Moody and Polyjuice Potion. She was young, barely fourteen. _Fifteen_, if you added the year of time traveling the year before hand. She was so fresh and off limits. She reminded him of himself in Hogwarts. So eager to learn. The only difference between the young girl and the deranged man is that she was surrounded by those whom loved her, by _friends_, while he had been surrounded by those whom had cheated, lied and used him all for their own benefit or to get themselves higher up in the scheme of things. Even his own Master did nothing to help him escape Azkaban after the Potter brat failed to die. He had always been a devoted, loyal servant, yet never rewarded. After sixteen years of devotion and loyalty towards his Master, he was left to rot! But for once, the Gods were on his side.

It wasn't for another six years until he saw her once again. The Ministry's Dementors had been destroyed, sending all of the consumed souls back to their owner's bodies. Barty Crouch Junior was considered alive once more. Hermione Granger was a Wizarding Psychiatrist concerned with the Maximum Ward at Azkaban. The English Wizarding Community was relatively low on numbers. They were determined to get as many 'evil' wizards rehabilitated and out of there as quickly as possible. She was in charge of his case. But she wasn't like the rest of them. She didn't treat them like the scum on the bottom of her shoes, though she had every right to. Especially towards him.

"Why are you here?" He had asked her bluntly.

"It's my job, Mr. Crouch." She quipped. The familiar spark of intelligence twinkling in her eyes was entrancing. Hypnotizing.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere else? Working with someone other than insane psychopaths and murderers such as those in these cells?" He hissed, the manic glint in his eyes confirmed by the quick flick of his tongue.

"I'm here because it's challenging and you intrigue me."

"Insane murderers intrigue you, Miss Granger? Such a warped sense of humor you have." He purred. It was the first time he ever saw her smile for him. _Him_! A neurotic pureblood with definite 'daddy issues'.

"No, Mr. Crouch. Just you."

There's a strange bond that develops between psychiatrists and their patients at times. She became his friend. His one, _true_ friend. He became hers, the only one capable of keeping up with her intellectually, no matter how insane he appeared to be. Too bad that he was trapped behind bars of steel…

"Tell me Barty, out of pure curiosity, if you were to be deemed legally sane and not a danger to yourself or to others in the outside world, what would you do first?" She asked him one day, completely out of the blue. He glanced up at her, his eyes wide in surprise. She smiled like she always did. He grinned up at her and pushed himself up against the bars.

"Come closer and I'll tell you, Hermione." She was wary of him, as she had every right to be. He may have only ever been calm in her presence, but that could change quickly.

"I have nothing to harm you with, Hermione…" And, he never called her by her given name. always 'Miss Granger'. Even with all of the warning signs going off, her instincts, she did as he had requested. She stood right up against the bars of his cell. His eyes traveled over her face, memorizing her facial expressions.

"Your answer?"

"Truthfully?"

"The truth _is_ what I'm after, Barty." His sudden grin caught her off guard. But what he said next shocked the old bookworm and war heroine even more.

"Honestly? I think that I might have to kiss you. _Taste you_. Prove to myself that not all Muggleborns are scum."

"You're the only Death Eater who doesn't call Muggleborns 'Mudbloods'. Why is that, Mr. Crouch?" She asked, a tad breathless. He chuckled. It was almost a giggle it was that maniacal.

"A young Muggleborn disproved everything that I believed about them. She had the knowledge, the beauty and the grace of a Pureblood, but she just lacked the lineage of one."

"Can I know her name?" She froze as he wrapped a finger around a lone curl that had flown into his cell. She shivered lightly.

"Why yes, I believe you can, Miss Granger. Just go look in any mirror that you can find and you'll see her staring right back at you."

Hermione hadn't come to see him in over a fortnight. He was beginning to get anxious. So when he saw her familiar head of brunette curls, the once loyal Death Eater jumped up like a pet awaiting the return of his Master. Voldemort was the last thing on his mind.

"Barty." She panted heavily, her cheeks flushed ever so delightfully. His eyes darkened as lust swam through his veins. The lust in his eyes faded almost immediately into adoration when she reached through the bars and cupped his hollowed cheek. He closed his eyes as the warmth of her fingers spread through him like a narcotic drug. He inhaled deeply, growling as the familiar scent wafted in his nose._ Peaches_. He was never much of a fan of peaches until recently. Much recently.

"The Ministry has chosen you to make an example of. You've been released into my custody, Barty." For the first time in his life, Barty Crouch Junior was grateful towards the Ministry of Magic.

"Conditions?" He asked. She chuckled and moved back. He frowned at the lack of warmth.

"Of course. It _is_ the Ministry after all. You will have to take a Mentality test to judge your state of mind, and if you pass that, you'll be living with a Ministry official for a probation period of six months to a year."

"You?" He didn't want to sound _too_ hopeful, but he couldn't help it. She smiled warmly and nodded. His heart beat erratically inside of his chest.

"Yes. Since I have a spare room, and I have been in contact with you for so long, I offered. I believed it wise as I've been the main one monitoring your progress so far. It means that we can have our meetings in a safe environment as well. After that, you'll have relatively stricted magic use for about another year. If you can keep clean that long, no criminal record whatsoever, your freedom will be earned. You'll be a free man, Barty, no strings attached. I really think that you can do this, Barty. I've been setting it up for you for the last two weeks. I think that I've set it up to appeal to your interests as best as possible."

"You must really want that kiss, Hermione." He whispered sensually. She blushed scarlet and he chuckled.

"I don't think that you need to be in here anymore. There are people with worse conditions than you, I believe. That, plus you're not the only one whose been thinking about how the 'other side' tastes. Your Mentality Test is set up for tomorrow morning, so all you have to do is read the contract and sign it, all the small print says is that you're doing this of your own free will." He nodded eagerly. Barty Crouch Junior wanted that kiss as much as Hermione Granger did.

Perhaps even more than _just_ a kiss.

As she had said, he passed it with ease.

"Well done Barty, I knew you could do it! You're on your way to being a free man!" His heart jolted as she threw herself into the ex-convicts arms. Nobody had ever done that to him before. He wrapped his arms around her waist tentatively, smiling into her thick mane of curls. Her scent was intoxicating to the former Death Eater now that he was able to bathe his senses in it.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. For all of this."

"It's fine, as long as you don't go around massacring people and blowing up important historical buildings." She teased playfully and he grinned.

"I think that I'm going to kiss you now." He murmured. She gulped and blushed prettily.

"Alright." She responded just as softly. He chuckled, intertwining his fingers into her hair. She gasped aloud as he swiped his tongue over her bottom lip mischievously, tasting her before actually kissing her properly.

"Barty, please…" He smirked arrogantly and kissed her. It was everything that a kiss was supposed to be, and everything that she wanted. It was passionate, yet not overly so. He still managed to possess a certain amount of tenderness, which was surprising from an ex Death Eater.

"Gods…" She whispered, breathless. He grinned and pulled back.

"Let's go get you some clothes, alright?" She asked him, trying to regain her control and composure. He chuckled and held his hand out, his eyes sparkling with wicked delight. She blushed and took his hand, letting the patient lead the doctor. Letting someone else be in charge for a change.

Of course, trouble arose. He would've been worried if it hadn't. people whispered and squabbled behind his back as they walked the streets of Diagon Alley, a Death Eater and war heroine. He ignored the gossiping people, holding his head up high. He had as much right to be there as they did, perhaps even more in some situations.

"Hm. Not as bad as I had figured. Nobody's killed me yet!" He said cheerfully. Hermione gave him a stern look she watched him practically skip into Madame Malkin's, a large grin on his face. He seemed so child-like, but she knew that behind the façade of child-like innocence, held the face of a stone cold killer and torturer. She shivered lightly. She had to pull so many strings to give him this chance at freedom. She believed that he was safe enough to be on the outside, and not stuck in that derelict prison.

"Miss Granger? Hermione!" Barty snapped, awakening her from her inner most thoughts. He was frowning sadly.

"Are you regretting it? Am I too much of a burden for you to be stuck with? He was constantly seeking her attention, her approval. She shook her head, smiling brightly up at him.

"The exact opposite. Let's get you some robes, and then we'll have to go to Gringotts and get your assets and accounts unfrozen." As she continued to smile at him, he began rifling through the waistcoats and robes. I saw Madame Malkin make her presence known, and frowned. She was glaring at Barty like he was the Black Plague.

"Barty."

"Hm?" He didn't look up, too preoccupied with the clothes rack.

"I don't think that we're welcome here/" He quickly glanced up at Madame Malkin.

"You are, just not me. I'll have to change that, won't i?" He said wickedly, beckoning her over.

"What can I help you with, Mr. Crouch?"

"Is it impolite to glare at potential customers, my dear madam?"

"Why, what a silly que-

"Then why do you persist? I am but a free man. I may browse to my heart's content. I should not have to worry about glares from the management eating away at my back." She spluttered indignantly, and moved away in a huff. He grinned at Hermione who simply rolled her eyes at him.

"Are you done? You didn't grab anything."

"I'd rather get my own clothes if you don't mind. Am I allowed to return to Crouch Manor with you?" Hermione was surprised evidently. Barty smiled and leaned in. Hermione gulped at the lack of space.

"May we go to my home, dearest Hermione, charge of me?" He purred seductively, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. She nodded quickly, unsure what to do with the rising feelings.

"I see no problem with it."

When we arrived at Crouch Manor, Hermione was surprised once more.

"Were you expecting Dark Artifacts? Slytherin décor? Mounted elf heads?" She nodded, incredulous.

"I was in Ravenclaw. Quite fond of periwinkle blue." She blushed, knowing full well that he knew that the colour of her dress to the Yule Ball had been periwinkle blue. Barty grabbed an assortment of things, some clothes, some books and several other little trinkets. Hermione explored the massive manor, marveling at the simple beauty of it all. Her eyes widened when she stumbled across the 'small' ballroom. It was small compared to that of the Malfoy's, where many of the Ministry's Charity Galas had been held. And instead of it being dark and brooding, with no windows whatsoever, it was filled with the light that streamed in through the walls of glass that the room had been built out of.

"This was my mother's favourite room." Hermione gasped fearfully and spun around, grasping at her chest.

"You scared me!" He smirked haughtily, stepping towards the curly haired witch she stared up at him as he held her by the waist, humming a song in her ear that she faintly remembered from one of the galas. He grinned and begun to dance with her around the room. She laughed and it lightened his dark heart. He wanted her. _Oh_, how he wanted her. She squeaked in surprise as he dipped her, his eyes dark with lust. Still, she was surprised when he actually confessed his lust and want for her.

"I want you to be mine." He stated simply. Her eyes widened in shock.

"Barty…" He pressed his lips against hers chastely, a mere shadow of the kiss from before.

"I will wait if I must, but I will fight your rules every step of the way." He murmured, closing his eyes. She reached out and traced the outline of his cheek. He was still seriously malnourished.

"Alright, Barty. But I'm very stubborn." He grinned mischievously.

"As am I."

And so their quirky relationship begun. Problems arose like they did with any relationship. When her friends found out that he was living with her, was enough trouble. When she told them that they were dating, they had a complete uproar on their hands. When they refused to break it off, her friends attempted to destroy it, and him. When they turned up on her doorstep, Hermione slammed the door in their hypocritical faces. Barty became obsessed with getting a job, insisting that he would not rely on the family profits anymore. Hermione was impressed by his resolve.

"Can't they just be happy that I am?" Barty smirked, his eyes twinkling with delight as she ranted and raved.

"What?!" She snapped, placing her hands on her hips.

"Nothing. It's just that you're quite adorable when you're angry." She huffed, but it didn't last. She never stayed angry at him.

"You were always in control when I saw you. It's quite amusing to see that you are indeed human." He laughed, nuzzling her neck from behind her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She couldn't help but smile. But, no matter how well she knew him, she didn't know of the nightmares. The soul wrenching, heart stopping nightmares. The Azkaban induced nightmares. So when she came home one day from her new research job at St. Mungo's and Barty had fallen asleep on the couch, the last thing that she had ever expected was to see him writhing and screaming in pain.

"Barty?!" She slammed the door behind her and ran past the kitchen into the small library where he normally read. The horror that she felt when she saw him was like nothing that she had ever experienced. It was then that she realised something. She realised that she loved him. Completely. She smoothed back his sweat soaked fringe, her eyes wide in panic. He opened his eyes wearily, one more whimper leaving his mouth.

"Mione?" He gasped, moving back."

"Why didn't you tell me? Her voice was soft, revealing her fright. He smiled weakly and nuzzled her hand.

"You'd think me weak."

"I was actually more worried as you weren't having nightmares. It doesn't make you weak Barty, just human. You should've told me." He was taken off guard by the raw emotion in her eyes. She smiled warmly and he leaned up, kissing her hungrily. She didn't resist.

"Bed?" he nodded and sat up, letting her direct him to her bedroom. He held her possessively as she laid down with him, his forehead pressed against hers lightly.

"Thank you."

"Always."

From then on, if he was experiencing a nightmare, he'd crawl into her bed. She simply smiled and welcomed him with open arms, wrapping her arms around his waist or he'd hold her, craving the physical and mental comfort that her presence gave him. Their relationship stayed the same, though. Nothing past kisses and at times, heavy petting. It was as if Barty was waiting for something. A sign of some sort. She wasn't complaining, but it did make her worry that he didn't feel anything for her, or at least, not as much as she felt for him.

"Barty, do you love me?" It was rare that she came down to his lab that she had added onto for him and his research, and even rarer that she spoke up, content to watch him work. He was bewildered.

"Where did this come from?" He asked, setting the potion aside. He had been searching for ways to improve the taste and smell of the foulest potions. He wasn't a Potions Master per se, but he experimented a lot, building up a tolerance to a mixture of potions.

"Just answer the question please, Barty." He frowned and took his glasses off, placing them in his pocket.

"What an absurd question, of course I love you." She gave a rather large sigh of relief and headed for the door. She was cut off by Barty, who pulled her backwards into his chest.

"Is this because I won't sleep with you?" She blushed hotly and he had his answer. He spun her around and kissed her thoroughly.

"I don't wish to take you like some hormone ridden teenager and have you regret it. I won't to love you like a woman deserves. I may have been a Death Eater, but it doesn't mean that all Death Eaters are slobs. I have standards. I want to love you like _you_ deserve. Yet, some days the temptation is much too great to resist. You look so fuckable in your summer dresses with your hair down, blowing in the light breeze." I frowned in disapproval of his crude language, but kissed him for the sweet endearments within the minor rant. He pressed his body against hers, groping her ass as he sent all common sense out the proverbial window.

"Can't you feel how much I want you, witch?" He snarled, his old personality coming through his lust.

"Quite well!" She gasped as he nibbled on her cleavage, laving it with his dexterous tongue. He growled lustfully, sliding his hand up her thigh, playing with the side of her panties.

"Fuck I want you so much, witch…"

"Barty…" She whimpered, wrapping her legs around his waist. He groaned and ripped her underwear off. She squeaked and let him go. He suckled on her throat eagerly, leaving a considerably large hickey. He swatted her backside once more and groaned.

"Don't be a bloody tease, woman. I need to get this work done." He kissed her quickly as he deposited her underwear in his coat pocket and opened the door for her and let her out. He cocked his head to the side as he watched her walk off, clearly frustrated. A wicked smirk lit his face up. He cleared his throat sharply and tried to ignore the painful throbbing in his slacks. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He never had held back this much in his lifetime, but he wanted her to want it as much as him, to _need_ it as much as him.

It was quite awkward afterwards. Hermione avoided the subject as much as possible, also avoiding physical contact. He had to fake a nightmare just to get her to hold him, to touch him. Even then it was a bit reserved. He needed her comfort, her touch, her smell. Her love. Without it, he felt the madness taking hold of him once more. So when she came back one night smelling of male perfume, the final straw of his patience had snapped.

"Barty! What are you still doing up this late?" She looked as beautiful as always, her lips glistening with the slight touch of lip gloss she had on. It worried him, that she could look so beautiful without even trying. She was his, yet how was he supposed to keep an eye on her if she didn't tell him anything?

"Where were you? Why did you just get back?" He snapped. He couldn't help it. He was excessively paranoid about losing her to someone her own age and without a criminal record.

"It's none of your business, Barty." She said coldly, walking past him. He grabbed her wrist and spun her into his chest.

"Let me go, Barty Crouch Junior!" She hissed as he pushed her up against the closest wall.

"Answer me, Hermione. Where were you and who were you with?" She sighed.

"Out with Harry and Ron, why? I won't repeat myself again, Barty. Let. Me. Go!" He kissed her hungrily, possessively, all of his desperation and anguish leaking through the kiss into her. She slid her hands into her hair, gripping it tightly. He smirked as she closed her eyes and melted into his touch. Still, he had his interrogation to continue.

"Why so chummy with them all of a sudden? After all, you did only slam the door in their faces about a week ago!"

"Why, Barty Crouch Junior, are you jealous? She asked in a teasing tone.

"What? No!" He squeaked.

"I think you are."

"Why did you have to close yourself off from me?!" He pleaded, holding her so tightly that it hurt her.

"What?"

"You don't hold me when I need you anymore, when I have nightmares about that _shithole _anymore. You flinch when I kiss you, which is rarely now. You avoid me. Now it's my turn. Do you still love me, Hermione Granger?" She pulled back, her eyes wide with fright.

"Of course I do!"

"It doesn't look like it." He snapped.

"You have no idea how much it hurt when you sent me away, did you? I began to pull back, afraid that _I _of all people was coming off as much too strong. It felt like you didn't want me, but I was the only female company available. I offered you something that I have never offered nor given to anyone else." He looked at her, clearly ashamed. She cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead.

"I'm very honoured, Hermione. But I cannot just take that on a whim, no matter how hard I want to. Tell me, why do you still smell of men?"

"They hugged me, that's all! Bartemius Crouch Junior, you have got to stop being so goddamned paranoid! People hug others!"

"I can't! If you never leave my sight, I could. Maybe."

"I can't do that, Barty. I still have work to do. I won't drop my career for you." He reached out.

"I didn't ask you to." She placed her hands on her waist defiantly.

"Then what, Barty? What can I do to accommodate you?" I'm exhausted trying to live up to your expectations, Barty. I'm going to go to bed, and we'll talk in the morning, alright?"

"Let me sleep with you, nightmare or not." She blushed and nodded. He picked her up, much to her surprise, and carried her to her bed. He turned around and stripped down to his boxers.

"Barty… I want you to see me. All of me." He gulped and spun around, feeling an awful lot like an awkward teenage boy once more.

"Alright. But I have conditions." She cocked an eyebrow expectantly, causing him to chuckle softly, his grin widening as he rifled through his clothes, muttering to himself. She squeaked as Barty pushed her back onto the bed, a massive grin on his face. He looked so adorable. So unlike the sadistic murderer that she knew was still hidden deep within him. It would never be gone, no matter how much therapy he went through. At least, not completely. Just enough for him to be declared legally sane.

"Marry me, that is my one condition." He whispered quietly. Cautiously.

"What?" She asked, clearly perplexed. He revealed a beautiful ring. It wasn't too over the top, which sat well with her. Her gaze widened, and her jaw dropped.

"Why?" She enquired softly. He furrowed his eyebrows and smirked.

"I need you to be mine. I need to possess you in more ways than one." He growled lustfully. She flushed and gently cupped his cheek.

"Undress me?" She asked once again, his question answered non-verbally. By her actions it showed that she wanted it, and _him_. He grinned and slid the ring onto the proper finger. He kissed her pulse point and held her protectively. _Possessively_.

"Only if you do the same. Though I've got to say that you have me at a dire disadvantage, then." She laughed and watched him as he took his time, drinking in each piece of flesh bared. When they laid bare before each other, all of their awkwardness had faded. He cradled her face in his hands once more and kissed her softly, yearning for her approval like a small child. She smiled and kissed him back, causing Barty to groan aloud.

"I won't be able to hold back."

"I don't care! I won't all of you, Barty."

"I could hurt you." He insisted urgently.

"It's going to hurt no matter what." I huffed indignantly.

"But-

"Barty, relax. What happened to the ruthless Death Eater inside of you?" She teased playfully and he growled, kissing her harshly. She gasped as he grinded his hips against hers, his erection a hard presence in between her thighs.

"I'm not a different man, Hermione. If I take you, _when_ I take you, all I will be able to think about is taking you rough and hard, no gentleness at all. Sex. Not love, sex. Fucking you. I need you, but I will restrain myself if I have to. I know that I will." He hissed, his eyes crazed from the lust swimming in his veins. She blushed brightly and cupped his cheek tenderly.

"I trust you." His eyes glazed over, his entire body consumed by his lust and hunger within him.

"You shouldn't." He sneered, holding her hands above her head in an attempt to stop her from leaping away, even though he was the one who brought up the argument. Her heart leapt in her chest as Barty kissed her passionately. She slumped underneath him, all obvious tension gone. He smirked arrogantly, his brown eyes sparkling.

"I want to hear it. Say yes…" He groaned, kissing her neck sensuously. She writhed underneath him, her ministrations causing the thin wire of patience that he possessed to fray.

"Say it, Hermione!"

"Yes! Oh, yes…" She moaned, stroking his ego quite well. He grinned wickedly and lowered his mouth over her ear. She shuddered lightly as his fingers traveled up her sides.

"So sensitive…" He crooned softly, knocking her knees apart so that he could lay in between them. She glanced up at Barty momentarily, and he growled.

"Naughty minx." He rasped, licking his lips ravenously. She gulped loudly, feeling like steak to a starving dog.

"Mine…" He hissed before all relevant thought left the couple.

The next morning was quite memorable for the couple. Hermione was still sore, but that was normal.

"Morning." She whispered softly, her fingers dancing over his chest. He smirked and pulled her in close.

"Morning, witch." He purred softly.

"Thank you." She said, referring to last night. He grinned wickedly, kissing her hungrily.

"You're _very_ welcome. How are you feeling?" Even though he was convinced that he would never changed, it was obvious to her in these moments. He _was_ changing, and it was all because somebody took the time to pay _him_ attention.

"A little sore." She confessed. He nodded, sliding his hands down to massage her thighs.

"Bath?" He enquired.

"Thought you'd never ask." She breathed. The memorable part of that day was not the sex, but the aftermath. They didn't speak. They didn't have to. It was understood via the use of body language. She felt safe with him. Him, a former Death Eater! And he, in return, well he felt wanted. Needed for the first time in his life. He felt loved. And he was. Unconditionally.

"What's wrong?" She asked him, clearly concerned. He smiled warmly and held her close as he shook his head in disagreement.

"All is well."


End file.
